


sixty-seven, cherry red

by burnsidesjulia



Category: The Adventure Zone (Podcast)
Genre: Canon Compliant, M/M, Mutual Masturbation, Non-Explicit Sex, Oral Sex, Pre-Canon, Speculation, Trans Male Character, maybe semi-explicit is more realistic, why did ned have beacon? here's why!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-07
Updated: 2018-12-07
Packaged: 2019-09-13 09:50:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,888
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16890288
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/burnsidesjulia/pseuds/burnsidesjulia
Summary: i ain't much for cars, and i'm sick of fate.Ned meets a new friend. Duck frees himself of a burden.or, the real way Duck Newton and Ned Chicane meet, fifteen years before our story.





	sixty-seven, cherry red

**Author's Note:**

> title and part of description from the song "'67 Cherry Red" by Aaron West and the Roaring Twenties. give em a listen- theyre real good.

Ned loved his Lincoln like a child. Or maybe he loved her like the wife he never had, or like the wife he almost had before he ran out the night before tying the knot. He loved her like religion, like every starry night cigarette smoked propped against her trunk. But before he had her, his car was a 1967 Ford Mustang, bright red. She was his first true love, and being behind her wheel always caught his heart on fire. He remembers late nights cruising countrysides, early mornings half asleep in the driver’s seat, day drinking and sheep counting and running stop signs.

But when he thinks about his Ford, he mostly remembers that night.

Ned is hesitant to talk about his age, especially with the other Pine Guard members being so much younger, but he’s been around. Around long enough, at least, that this isn’t his first stint in Kepler. He came once as a teen and has been back three separate times because, as much as he hates it, it _is_ the best place in the world. Something about it always called to him. And sure, he spent most nights here in the Dominos parking lot, hungover, but it always stood out as a nice little place to him. A place he might actually like to settle down. So when time came to settle down, he came back again.

The point is, Ned’s been here before. Maybe fifteen or twenty years ago was the last time before this one, and that was when that night happened.

He was sober. He was quitting smoking cold turkey so he was a bit cranky, but he was living. His gut was full of a gas station cheeseburger and a 48oz root beer, and the night was just creeping up on Kepler. He hit the main road for a quick drag, his windows down, jazz floating softly out of his car speakers. The cold air kept him awake.

He was more awake when suddenly, there was a man in his headlights, standing arms spread.

To say his arms were spread was a bit of a stretch. He was more standing with his arms just slightly bent away from his slim body, his loose denim jacket making the distinction even tougher. He sported ripped jeans and this kinda ratty mullet thing. Ned squeaked the car to a stop just feet from him.

“What the hell are you doing?” He yelled. He would’ve laid on the horn if it still worked.

The man blinked at him a few times, a little stunned. Then, as if nothing had happened, he rounded the car and hopped into the passenger seat.

“Hey,” he said. He had an accent that was telling of his locality.

“What the fuck,” Ned replied. The man did not move. He closed the door and did up his seatbelt. He and Ned shared a long look.

“Well,” the man said. He gestured forward. “ _Drive._ ” As if it was the easiest thing in the world. But the thing was, Ned didn’t really know what to do but listen.

He kept the radio low, kept an eye on the stranger in his passenger seat. He was youngish, uneven patches of hair making up a sort of beard along his chin. He was just staring at the headlights, nodding his head lightly to the music. He didn’t request a destination, money, or Ned’s life. He just seemed content to ride.

Ned wasn’t a huge fan of the silence after a bit, and so he broke it. He cleared his throat. “Where you heading, stranger?”

The man shrugged and didn’t look at Ned as he replied. “Anywhere. Gettin’ outta this shithole.”

“I’m not leaving town tonight, young man.”

The man hesitated for a second. His fingers flittered over the seat buckle. He settled back, shrugged. “Fine. Just take me someplace that ain’t where I was.”

Ned smiled at the stranger. “Sure thing.” There was a short silence then, and Ned tried to fill it. The man reached across and turned the radio up a little, and they kept driving.

Ned was no stranger to shady activity. He’d seen it all, done it all, done some of it twice or thrice or regularly. But when the kid reached in his jacket pocket and pulled out a joint, Ned decided he might have to put his foot down. He turned down the radio again. “Maybe not in the car, bud.”

“Maybe fuck off,” the stranger suggested, holding the joint tight between his lips. He produced a lighter and carried on.

“I’m serious,” Ned tried. “I’ll drop you off right here. I don’t want my car to reek like that.”

The man did not put it away, and Ned rolled to a stop. There was a moment of silence, and then the man rolled his eyes at Ned. “Fine.” He ashed it out the window and put it back in his pocket. When he drew his hand out, he was holding a cigarette.

“Want one?” he offered, almost like it was an apology. Ned didn’t care that he was supposed to be quitting. He took one, and they started off again.

They were reaching the edges of town. Buildings got sparse, trees got taller and closer together. The man rolled his window down and breathed deep, his eyes closed. Ned turned off his headlights and rolled in darkness down the straightaway.

There was a hand on his chest. “Pull over here,” the man said. Ned flicked his headlights back on: nothing but trees. He looked to the man confused, but it seemed urgent. He complied, cringing just a little at the groans of protest coming from his shocks as he rolled over rocks and thick branches.

Ned looked over at the man, only a shadow in the moonlight. He was looking back.

“Anything you want in particular?” Ned asked, a little less confused now than he was a moment ago.

“Yeah,” the man said. His breath smelled like cigarettes, close to Ned’s face already. His hands rose up, grabbed his cheeks. “You.”

And then it was happening so fast, both of them leaned over the center console. The stranger was grabbing aimlessly, touching, trying to pull Ned to him and failing miserably. Ned pulled back as the stranger started kissing at his neck.

“Shit,” he said. “We need to- the backseat-”

“Fuck the backseat,” the stranger said, his words buzzing against Ned’s adams apple.

“There won’t be any fucking if we don’t,” Ned pointed out, and there was hardly a moment between him saying that and the stranger launching himself over the console, scrambling to the backseat. He grabbed tight onto Ned’s shoulders and started pulling him back, too, but Ned was a bit more full-figured than this guy and knew he wouldn’t fit. He hopped out of the car and back in at lightning speed, and this guy was right back on him, moth to a lamp light or sheep to the slaughter.

There was silence but their breathing, the push and pull of their lips. The moon fell through the windshield, painted them blue and black. Ned caught the stranger’s face in his hands.

“God,” he said. “You’re beautiful.” Objectively, it was true. His face was a little rugged, bruised on the cheekbone, but symmetrical and well-proportioned. If not beautiful, he was at least handsome. Even so, the man recoiled, his teeth drawing back into a sneer. “I’m not,” he said. “I’m nothing special, alright? You don’t have to think I’m beautiful to fuck me.”

“I don’t have to fuck you to think you’re beautiful,” Ned retorted, which was stupid. He knew that even then, right as he said it. The man laughed. “You’d have to be stupid, though.” He pulled Ned into another full body embrace, their chests pressed together, heaving in opposite time. “Lucky for you, I’m a little bit of a sucker for stupid men.” He dived back in for a kiss, his hands travelling down toward Ned’s jeans. He undid the button and stuck his hand down with no fanfare, just hunger in the dark. Ned moaned into his mouth.

“Jeez,” he said. “Dude, I don’t even know your name.” He shook his head. “We shouldn’t- god. At least, _I_ shouldn’t-”

“The name’s Duck,” the stranger said. He traced a thumb over Ned’s lip. “It’s a nickname. Don’t ask.”

“Wasn’t going to,” Ned said. The hand in his pants was starting to move, slow strokes that were driving him a little mad. He blinked fast, trying to stay composed. “I’m Redmond Chick.”

Duck scoffed. “No you fuckin’ ain’t.”

“It’s a nickname,” Ned replied. “Don’t worry about it.” And he leaned in and kissed Duck harder, and they both stopped worrying.

The hand in his pants kept steady, too slow to finish him off but too much for him to stay soft. When he tried to push up into Duck’s hand, he held his hips down and just took his pants down a little further.

“Come on, Duck,” he panted.

“Fuckin’ cool it,” Duck replied. “I said I was a sucker for men like you, didn’t I?” He had started laying across the back seat, head in Ned’s lap. And Ned stayed quiet because that was starting to make a little more sense to him.

Duck took him out of his pants, still only half hard, and Ned swore he saw the man lick his lips. Duck lowered his mouth onto him, holding him in the wet heat. Ned swore a couple times, twitching against the wet wall of Duck’s cheek.

“Please,” he said. “Do something.” And Duck couldn’t respond, but he listened. He moved down, then up, then down to nearly the hilt. His throat fluttered and he made a probably exaggerated gagging noise, rolling his eyes back. He pulled back and swirled his tongue in circles around the head, across the slit and under the slight ridge at the head of his cock. Ned smoothed a hand through his hair, finding it a little greasier than he’d like. He still didn’t remove his hand, simply grounded it on his head. He gave a soothing scratch at the back on his head.

“You’re, ah. Really good.” He watched Duck intently as he moved, the way his tongue glistened wet in the moonlight, his lips swollen and puffy pink. The idea that he’d done this to a stranger tugged at strings that he didn’t even know were in him.

Duck pulled back. “Fuck my mouth,” was all he said, a simple command, and then placed his open mouth back around the tip of Ned’s cock. Ned moved his hand to palm the back of Duck’s head and drove forward, mesmerized by the outline of his own cock pressing outward in Duck’s cheek. He ground forward there for a moment, encouraged by the slippery heat, but the promise of Duck’s tongue set him straight. He pushed in until his hips met Duck’s bruised cheekbone, until he gagged and tears filled his eyes. Ned was ready to pull back, but Duck’s hands stayed firmly by his sides. He refused to tap out. Ned wasn’t going to argue and so he pushed again, and again, and he moved faster and faster until Duck finally pulled back with no warning. He was drooling, eyes wet, and he quickly wiped his mouth with his sleeve. “Shit,” he said, and this time Ned was sure he licked his lips. He smiled, too, and said, “You taste kinda good.”

He sat back up in his seat and undid his own pants. He started to shimmy them down, and Ned tried not to stare. He scratched his neck. “Want me to do you?” he asked, and Duck shook his head. “Nah. I’ll take care of it. Just want you to watch me, big fella.”

“Are you sure?” Ned proposed. He scooted a bit closer, still full of all sorts of pent up horny energy. “I’ve been told I give the best head in Kepler.”

“You ain’t from Kepler, mister,” Duck pointed out, as if this was obvious. “And I _said_ I’ll handle it.” Ned was a bit taken aback, but complied. He swallowed as Duck got his pants to his thighs, revealing the wetness soaking his boxers. Duck smiled. “You sure are welcome to get yourself off too, though.” And Ned didn’t need to be told twice.

He watched as Duck put a hand down his underwear, circling his cock with two fingers. He groaned, brought them back up to his mouth and spit, shoving them back down in a hurry. Ned could sense the impatience, and brought his hand to his own cock, stroking slowly. Duck shook his head at nothing in particular, brought his other hand down and stuffed it in his boxers, too, fingers curling up in a way that said he was fucking himself. Ned shuddered, squeezing at his cock to keep from coming too soon. He wanted to come with Duck, but Duck kept making these little noises that ranged from whimpers to near yells as his fingers pushed in and out, his other hand still stroking his cock with vigor. Ned’s mouth watered. He wanted to taste Duck, to touch him and be the reason he made those noises. He thought, _maybe next time_ , and the idea of a next time brought him right back to the edge.

“Shit- ah, god, so _good_ , I- I’m close, Redmond.” It took Ned a second to remember that he was Redmond, and he responded, “I want you to come for me, Duck,” and that was really all it took. His hand circled his cock twice more and then his thighs were trembling, stomach clenching, eyes rolled back in his head. He panted for a moment, opened his eyes and grimaced. He pulled his sticky hand out of his boxers and wiped it on his jeans. Ned was so caught up in it that he barely noticed before he met his own climax, washing over him like a smooth wave. It was slow and languid, and he came down from it like a fog into a valley.

“That was good,” Duck said. And then they were quiet for a long time.

Ned grabbed the keys and turned the radio back on. Miles Davis played softly behind the soundtrack of their breathing.

“Thanks,” Ned said. “For, you know. That.”

“No need to thank me,” Duck said. “Did it for me, not you.”

“Oh.” Ned stopped to think for a moment. “I guess I mean I was just lucky I found you. Like it was fate.”

Duck rolled to face him. “I’m gonna be honest with you, Redmond. I’m real fuckin’ sick of fate dictating everything in my life.” He looked back up at the car’s roof. “Just once, I’d like something to be by me, for me.”

Ned nodded, but he was entirely sure he didn’t understand.

The silence that followed was long, but welcome. The stars outside stood at attention.

“What brings you to Kepler?” Duck asked finally. Ned chuckled nervously. “Business,” he settled, and Duck outright laughed at him. “You’re a liar.” He popped another cigarette between his lips. “A good one, but a liar nonetheless.” 

“I’m not lying,” Ned said, lying. “Really. Everything’s business if you look at it right.”

“And what business do you have with me?” Duck asked with a grin.

Ned shrugged. “I’m in the business of pleasure.” Duck laughed again, scratching at his patchy beard. “Alright, then. What other business you in?”

“I guess you could call me an antique collector,” Ned said eventually. “I find interesting things. I keep them. And I sell them.”

“Good business,” Duck replied. Ned smiled. “Yeah. I think it’s be sorta neat, y’know. Opening up a museum kinda thing here in Kepler.” Duck took a drag of his cigarette. “No one would go,” he said bluntly. Ned nodded. “I know. I’d still like it.”

“Well, sometimes you gotta do things that only you like,” Duck said vaguely. “Ignore all the shit everyone else tells you. Just do what you want.” He turned and blew his smoke in Ned’s direction. “I like that about you, Redmond. I think I’d like to be a little more like you.”

“You wouldn’t,” Ned responded. “Promise.” Another silence fell, this one short and sweet. Duck took only a beat before he asked, “What kinda things you collect, Redmond?”

“Anything,” he said. “Everything.”

Duck sat up very abruptly. His eyes were bright and wide as he asked, loud, “How about swords?”

-

Ned drove back out of town the next morning, a sword tied up in burlap and ropes in his trunk. He left Kepler behind for another fifteen years.

When he came back and found Duck Newton in a ranger’s uniform, hair neatly cut and beard even? Well, he’d be lying if he said he didn’t miss those times a little bit. He’d be lying more if he said he didn’t miss the car.

He introduces himself with a new name. He figures Duck might not even recognize him, what with fifteen years of age on him.

But Ned wouldn’t be lying if he said that there was some unspoken ache in his belly when Duck took back what was his, and left Ned with nothing but memories to prove it happened.

**Author's Note:**

> wrote this in an hour, lads. had the idea, needed to word vomit. hopefully, this'll get me writing again! in this, duck is about twenty-two and ned is thirty-four-ish, which makes ned about 50 in canon and duck 37. seems about right, yea?
> 
> also, this is my first amnesty fic! how exciting. i cant wait to write more.
> 
> comments, kudos, and bookmarks are all greatly appreciated and i love you all. thank you so, so much.


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